


Okayaki

by PKA



Series: Kintsukuroi Timestamps [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, But Then Feelings Happened, Jealousy, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Shameless Smut, this was supposed to be less painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: After their recent reunion, Will and Hannibal are unsure how to proceed. A young woman comes into contact with Hannibal and triggers a chain reaction.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fragile-teacup (Mrs_Gene_Hunt)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/gifts).



> People seemed to like my little birthday gift for [ fragile-teacup ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/) and so I'm uploading it here as well. She is an amazing person, who deserves all the love (and she beta-read her own birthday present... how great is that?!). If you aren't familiar with her work, you should check her out!
> 
> Read [ 'Kintsukuroi'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7698061/chapters/17539942%22) first, or this won't make a lot of sense!

»You flirted with her.«

Hannibal looks up from his drawing. Will stands in the door frame like the effigy of a wrathful God - the sunset's red light caught in his long, messy hair doing nothing to soften his stern expression. He looks like he is out for blood.

»I did,« Hannibal admits freely, for he does not feel ashamed. »What of it?«

According to the subtle change in his expression, his answer does nothing to brighten Will's mood.

Will crosses his arms in front of him, trying to shield himself from feelings of discomfort. »Do you think it's a good idea to attract further attention?«

Hannibal puts his pencil down, his drawing momentarily forgotten. How intriguing this turn of events is - the potential it has.

He decides to be straightforward. »Are you jealous, Will?«

A flinch - barely there and yet perceived. »Of course not.«

Very intriguing indeed.

Will has told him he loves him in his drunken haze, has even reaffirmed it the next morning, but after that first night nothing else has happened. They have spent the last few days silently becoming accustomed to each other's presence, reacquainting themselves with the all-familiar dance – a few new steps in it now. Hannibal has wondered if perhaps Will's feelings for him are of a platonic nature, and if, after that one incident, born of desperation and joyous reunion, Will has recognized them as such.

When he looks at Will's furious face now, it appears to be not quite so easy. Hannibal stands up and makes his way across the room, seeking more details in Will's expression.

Already forgotten is the name of the woman Will is talking about, a saleswoman who came to Will's - to _their_ \- door a few hours earlier. Hannibal charmed her as he had many in the past - without pleasure and goal-oriented. She was a pretty thing: tan skin, blonde, long hair, a harmonious face. A bright smile in front of a brain that was a lot less so, born and raised in the mindless abundance of the Keys.

It proved useful to engage with her. She was eager to give up information, albeit not as eager to leave their property afterwards. Flirting works with most women - Hannibal is aware that a lot of people find him attractive and there is nothing worse than wasting a gift.

Will is... more difficult to interpret. Neither of them is entirely sure how to proceed. Will is changed, as was to be expected, and he has a renewed nervous energy about him that was missing when Hannibal met him in the BSHCI. His deadly calm is gone. They are in a tender position, the wound not yet scabbed over, and every little irritation could draw new blood. It is a delicate thing and has to be handled with care.

Will's intentions aren't clear. He's become even shyer than before, retreating into his own head more often. In this moment, however, he is as easy to see through as the glasses he wears. It excites Hannibal, like sudden movement in still water. Change is imminent.

»I don't think you are been entirely honest, Will,« Hannibal says, coming closer.

Will backs away. He has to learn to stand his ground again, regain his self-confidence. Hannibal prefers him like that - feisty and snarky and somewhat rude, even when sober.

He backs away until he hits the wall in the corridor and there he remains, eyes cast down. The sour scent of jealousy fills Hannibal's nostrils; mingles with nervousness and just a hint of arousal.

His flirting has awoken something in Will, Hannibal muses. A horrible feeling – to think you aren't enough to satisfy; to realize how much you want something once you can't have it any more. The thought must be unbearable – hardly back in Will's life and gone again. Exchanged for a younger, less broken model. Not worth the repair. Back to alcohol and depression.

Hannibal steps closer, into Will's personal space. He has yet to answer.

»Why did you bring it up, Will? Do you want to protect me from harm? Do you want to prevent me from getting caught? Or is your reasoning less noble?«

»I don’t - «

»It's quite natural to want to keep the people we love to ourselves. Sharing affection could mean rejection. Tell me, Will, are you afraid of getting left behind, replaced by someone new? Do you think I'd find you disgusting, the way you are now?«

A heady smell. Shame. Will claws at the wall behind him.

Hannibal moves closer still, lured in by the traitorous odor of Will's body answering his questions. It makes him happy, in some primal way, to know that Will perceives a threat and feels the need to protect their relationship. There's willingness in him.

He only breathes the next words. »Stupid boy. There was never anyone like you, Will, nor will there ever be. Don't doubt my affection and don't insult me by thinking I'd care for your changed appearance.«

Will looks up, then, flustered and red in the cheeks, eyes wild with a thousand different feelings. Pain, shame, loneliness, disgust. Love and lust and hope. He looks young and lively. He is beyond beautiful.

Their eyes meet for the quarter of a second. Will can't hold the eye contact. His gaze drops to Hannibal's lips. He swallows - his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat. Enticing.

Hannibal had thought it best to let Will make the first step. Let him decide where to take their journey from here. In this instance, however, he decides that they have both suffered long enough. He crosses the last inches still separating them and closes Will's mouth with his own - swallowing the sound Will makes in the process.

Arms snake around him in an instant, holding onto him with as much force as they can muster. Fear spikes in Will's body alongside lust, easy for Hannibal's nose to pick up. Will is afraid he could slip away, could share Will's perception of being inferior, could find their kiss and Will's whole being distasteful. It is far from Hannibal's mind.

Hannibal presses him tightly against the wall, pins him with his body, and lets Will take control of the kiss. It is the second time their lips meet, and a lot less tame than the first. Will devours him, pushes his tongue deep into Hannibal's mouth - exploring and claiming. Hannibal doesn't mind. He has been Will's for a very long time.

Once Will seems to be sure that Hannibal has no intention of pulling away, he drops his hands and starts fumbling with Hannibal's belt, eager fingers brushing over his crotch. Hannibal aches for his touch and has no desire to hinder Will as he has done before. No alcohol to blame this time. This is Will's decision. He feels his cock swell quickly, making him feel light-headed and more out of control than he has in a long time.

Will growls, deep and throaty, before he pushes his hand into Hannibal's pants. It is like being touched for the very first time, not only because it has been so long, but because it is Will touching him - wonderful, raging, insecure Will. Hannibal rams him against the wall harder and they kiss more wildly. Passion turns Hannibal's blood into liquid fire. Part of him wants to rip Will's clothes apart and take him like an animal over the next best surface, fill him to the brim and reassure him of his love with frantic fucking. Another part of him wants to slow down and cherish this moment; wants to touch every part of Will with the devotion he deserves.

This is not about him, however, and Will seems to have a clear preference for the first option, tearing at Hannibal's cheap clothes and being dissatisfied with his inaction.

Will makes a sound again - a grunt this time - as if fully aware that any words will break the spell. Hannibal's pants slide down to his ankles and his underwear follows a moment later, Will's hand pulling at his cock with little finesse but a lot of enthusiasm, roughened fingertips against tender skin.

He touches Will in return then, hopeless and frantic, memorizing his body with his hands. Such smooth, beautiful skin over too lean a frame; untouched, Hannibal knows, by anyone these last few months. So responsive, so willing, so desperate to please Hannibal. So little trust in his feelings after all this time of separation.

»Bed,« Will murmurs. The spell doesn't break.

Hannibal steps out of his pants, frees Will from his shirt, and together they leave a trail of clothes to the master bedroom occupied by only Hannibal. Will still sleeps downstairs with the dogs and Hannibal feels giddy at the prospect of spending the night beside Will once more. Not because of the sex - that is only a nice bonus - but because of the intimacy.

The view of the sea from the bedroom is wonderful, especially when the sun is setting, but today Hannibal has eyes only for the man writhing beneath him, skin sparkling and alight, his eyes the color of the sky outside.

»How I love you,« Hannibal whispers and he feels his own words tug at his heart, Will tearing into him. He has never imagined himself saying these words to anyone, but now they pour out unbidden.

A tear rolls down Will's cheek, his eyes ablaze in silent wonder. Hannibal catches it with his tongue before it can vanish into his beard. The salty taste of Will acts as an appetizer and Hannibal wants more, his own satisfaction momentarily forgotten.

He places three kisses on his way down - on Will’s breastbone, just above the scar and on his navel. Will’s fingers stroke through his hair and when Hannibal stops, they try to push him further down.

Will is still soft, unlike Hannibal, but he quickly hardens in his mouth. His scent and taste are the only things of importance. A sweet note between all the salt – a lot of sugar in Will's diet now, to fight the cravings for alcohol. Hannibal swallows him down wholly, chokes a little on his girth. It has been a while.

Will tries to pull one of his hands back to cover his mouth and muffle his moaning, but Hannibal catches it on its way. No words needed to convey the message. Hannibal starts in earnest now, sucking and licking like a man starving, enjoying Will's unhushed moans.

Will's hands, both back in his hair, clench and pull and hurt him. Hannibal doesn't mind. He drags his tongue over the slit, catching every little drop Will is willing to give, before he lets him sink in deeply again. A breathless sound. A few contracting muscles. Will's pubic hair is tickling Hannibal's nose. He inhales deeply – the raw and rich scent of Will makes Hannibal growl around his dick.

Spit is leaking from his mouth; his hair is mussed by Will's fingers. He is aware how he must look: entirely debauched. It is necessary for Will to see him like this, to be reminded of what Hannibal can also be. For him.

He lets Will's cock fall from his lips and works his way up his body again with as little patience as before. Will awaits and kisses him hungrily, fingers dancing over Hannibal's skin.

»Say it again,« Will begs, putting his legs around Hannibal's waist, pulling him closer and trapping him. It doesn't feel restrictive. In fact, there is no place Hannibal would rather be.

»I love you, Will,« Hannibal croaks, throat tight not only from the recent penetration.

He feels Will's teeth when their mouths meet again, biting softly into his lip. He returns the favor. Will shivers against him and they slide together even more perfectly, warmth and friction building between them, breathless gasps and low moans. Hannibal's composure slips away in a matter of seconds and before he knows it, he is rutting against Will, close already.

Their movements are frantic and unrefined, no better than two animals in heat. Will's fingernails dig deep into Hannibal's back – he can feel the skin breaking around a few of them. Beautiful crescent marks of Will's making. Will pushes against him and they roll over on the king-sized bed until Will is straddling him, taking control.

Hannibal wants to paint him like this, but he wouldn't find the colors to do him justice. Will's sweaty skin gleams with the last few rays of sunlight, most of his body already cast in shadows.

He moves his hips forward, takes Hannibal's hand and closes it around his cock, taking what he wants. Thrusting forward into Hannibal's fist, his movements become erratic. Another deep growl; a violent shiver passes through Will's entire body and then he comes, shooting thick, hot spurts of semen all over Hannibal.

It's almost enough to push him over the edge as well, but not quite. He rewards Will with a moment of breathless recreation before he throws him off his lap; kisses him harshly while getting onto his knees; turns Will around and draws his back to his cum-smeared chest. Will is pliant - doesn't struggle - until he sees himself in the mirror hanging above the bed, his image and Hannibal's staring back at him. Only then does he try to escape Hannibal's grip, but it's a useless endeavor.

»No,« Hannibal says, meeting his eyes through the reflection. »Look.«

Will does, reluctantly. He has a hard time looking at himself; concentrates on Hannibal instead, like he often does these days, not yet accustomed to his on-the-run identity. Hannibal meets his gaze with intensity. They are beautiful like this, so very different than they were just a few months ago. Entirely different to who they were when they first met.

Hannibal's cock rest in the crease of Will's ass and he bucks his hips. It's dry and not entirely pleasant, but Hannibal welcomes the sharp edge to it. He can see Will's reaction in the mirror, his post-coital bliss, and he can nuzzle Will's long hair, take in the slightly sweaty and sebaceous smell of his scalp.

He holds Will tightly while he fucks against him, murmuring endearments against his skin, in English at first, and then in Italian. The last rays of sunshine disappear and when Hannibal finally comes, the room is pitch-black. He keeps Will upright for a moment longer, their sperm mingling on Will's back. In the darkness it's easier to hide the tears rolling down his cheek. He will allow Will to see most of him, most of the depths of his feelings, but not this.

Finally, they fall onto the mattress, Hannibal heavy on top of Will, blanketing him. Will's breath is shallow, but he doesn't try to free himself. Hannibal is sure he welcomes the feeling of getting crushed, the affirmation hidden in it.

»No one but you,« Hannibal murmurs against his ear, in case it isn't enough.

Will is quiet for a long moment and Hannibal thinks he may choose not to say anything.

»Mine,« he says finally, testing the word on his tongue. A foreign concept that needs to be explored.

Hannibal smiles and presses a lazy kiss against Will's neck.

»Yes. Yours.«

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
